A Very Special Guardian Angel
by The Fink
Summary: Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel
1. Knee

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story.

Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel.

A Very Special Guardian Angel

1 - Knee

Tony feigned sleep.

It was easier that way. It meant he didn't have to see the pitying looks or have to listen to faltering well wishes from people who didn't know him beyond the sports he played and had no idea what to say to him now that those sports were beyond him. It also meant he could avoid the doctors and their talk of reconstructive surgery and endless rehab that would have him still on crutches for a graduation that might not even happen.

Feigning sleep also had the benefit of getting him out of those ever-awkward conversations with whichever bimbo his father had dispatched. For someone who had made a big production out of cutting him off, Tony couldn't help but be wryly amused by the level of interest his father continued to display. Even if it was probably more a matter of schadenfreude-

_"Now this couldn't have happened if you'd only gone to Harvard Business School like I wanted."_

-it was still attention. Attention that his father had once sworn to never give.

The downside, though, was obvious. Being left alone meant being left with thoughts that were entirely too dark and depressing. He had no future now: the dream of pro sport had vanished in a haze of too much pain and not enough morphine. OSU were still trying to determine if he should be kicked out, given that he no longer fit the qualifications for the sports scholarship, so there was no certainty that he'd have a degree to fall back on - and even if he did, he had no idea what he'd do with it. Teach, he supposed - except that he couldn't think of anything worse. He'd probably end up one of those bitter and jaded gym teachers who only existed to make their students' lives hell.

There was, of course, always the option to go crawling back to his father and beg for a job there. That was almost as much of a non starter as being a gym teacher, though. The prospect of a good twenty or thirty years of hearing "I told you so" was about as appealing as having that ass from Michigan tear his other ACL for good measure.

Except he couldn't really call a guy who'd apologised five ways from Sunday and gone out of his way to help him find a specialist an ass.

Probably would never want to buy the guy a drink, but he wasn't an ass.

Tony allowed himself a small sigh and shifted a little on the bed. Just that small movement sent a stab of pain through his mangled knee, making him wince.

"Daddy would tell you to take your pain killers," said a childish voice.

Tony's eyes snapped open in total surprise. Sitting on the hard plastic chair beside his bed was a pixie-like child with piercing blue eyes and long red-blonde hair. "Who- who are you?"

The child offered a beaming smile. "I'm Kelly."

He ran the name through his memories, trying to see if there was anyone he knew who had kids, much less one as old as Kelly. What was she? Seven? Eight? Seemed unlikely she'd be the daughter of anyone he was in college with and he didn't know any of his professors well enough that they'd want to visit him, much less send their daughter in on her own. Not to a total stranger. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting you, silly," she said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Me?" he echoed. "I don't know you."

"No, you don't," she agreed. She reached out and lightly patted him on the arm. "But I know you and I wanted to come."

Tony shifted again, and winced as his knee complained. The steady blue-eyed gaze seemed too old for her childish face. "How?" he asked.

Kelly didn't answer. Instead she tipped her head on one side. "You really should take your medicine, you know," she observed instead. "It'll make you feel better."

"It'll make me loopy and say stuff I shouldn't," Tony retorted.

Kelly slowly righted her head and sighed. "You have to look after yourself," she said. "He'll be counting on you one day."

Tony frowned. "Who will?"

"Daddy," said Kelly as if the answer was obvious.

"Whose daddy?"

"Ours."

Now Tony was reasonably sure he was dreaming. "You're not my sister. I don't have a sister. Don't even really have a father."

Kelly's response was to giggle. "Not him, silly."

Bemused, Tony stared at her for a moment. Then sighed. If this was a dream, there wasn't much point expecting things to make sense.

"And you have to stop hiding," the little girl continued, her tone taking on an admonishing quality. "You're not a coward."

"Haven't exactly got much to look forward to."

"But that's where you're wrong," said Kelly earnestly. "You have lots to look forward to."

"Yeah. Pain, crutches, surgery-"

"I don't mean that," the girl retorted with an impressive eye roll. "I mean good stuff. Good people. You just have to be patient."

Tony sighed. "Don't exactly do patience, kid."

Kelly smirked. "It'll be okay," she promised. She glanced over her shoulder at something only she could see, then looked back. "Mommy says I have to go now." She reached out and gently squeezed his arm. "Promise me you'll take your medicine."

Under a heavy stare that definitely had a hint of wisdom far beyond Kelly's handful of years, Tony found himself nodding obediently.

It earned him another beaming smile as the child slid off her seat. "I'll see you soon, Tony." She paused in the doorway. "Oh, and make sure you listen to the coach."

Listen to the coach? What?

A light touch to his shoulder and a gentle uttered, "Tony?" had him waking with a start. It had been a dream, then. One very, seriously, whacked-out dream. He blinked a couple of times and realised that one of the younger nurses was leaning over him with his latest round of painkillers in her hand and a wary expression on her face.

"I wasn't going to wake you," she began, clearly judging she had his attention, "but it's time for your meds and Coach Miller's here to see you. Says it's important."

Tony's first impulse was to tell the nurse exactly what she could do with the trio of little white pills and, while she was at it, that she could also tell Coach Miller to go to hell, too. _Promise me you'll take your medicine and l__isten to the coach._ The echo stopped him short and made him reconsider. It did feel weird to follow advice probably given to him by a figment of his own imagination, but, on the other hand, it wasn't as if ignoring the rest of the world had exactly got him anywhere and maybe it would be nice if every flinch wasn't accompanied by a flash of red hot pain.

"Guess I'll be good," he murmured and was rewarded by a bright smile from the nurse when he appropriately swallowed all three pills.

"I'll send the coach in, then," said the nurse.

A moment or so later, as the edges of the pain in his knee were beginning to dull, Coach Miller appeared in the doorway. Unlike all his previous visitors, Miller was actually smiling like he meant it. "DiNozzo. Sorry I haven't been by any sooner, how're you doin'?"

Tony shrugged. "Surgery's scheduled for tomorrow."

Miller nodded. "Sooner it's done, sooner you can get into rehab and back on your feet."

"Won't be playing pro, though."

Miller's smile faded just a touch. "I hear you on that, and it sucks – I know it. I do have some good news, though."

"Sure could use some."

"Been speaking with the student affairs department and the Dean and we've been able to figure something out, so you can finish your degree. Gonna take a lot of hard work between now and graduation, but I figure if there's anyone at OSU who can do it, I'm lookin' at him right now."

For a second, Tony teetered at the edge of the cliff. Take a leap of faith and do as Kelly asked or follow his first impulse and tell Miller to go to hell. _Listen to the coach._ He took a breath and jumped. "What do I have to do?"


	2. Head

I'm absolutely stunned by the response part 1 received. And not a little bit terrified! Thank you all, both those who've reviewed and those who've added this story as a favourite or who've set up alerts. It really does mean a lot to know that you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Please note, I've upped the rating, to cover some minorish bad language.

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story.

Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel.

A Very Special Guardian Angel

2 - Head

It was a bad bust before they even rolled. Tony had known it from the moment the lead detective swaggered into the briefing room long on confidence and short on information, but he was just the rookie on the team. The so-very-newly-minted-he-practically-squeaked detective who was, so say, taking part on a milk-run bust for the experience. He wasn't there to ask questions or raise doubts, he was expected to just sit in the corner of the room, lapping up the pearls of wisdom his seniors were dispensing. Which he'd done, because pissing off the nearest thing to God in the department was career suicide and he was still too close to those awful days of not knowing where the hell his life was going to go to want to risk that.

Lying now, in a pile of broken glass and shattered window frame, Tony couldn't help but wish he had pissed God off. Career suicide had to be less painful than taking a header through a window. He supposed he should have been grateful that it was only a first storey window he'd been shoved through, but with the house raised a good five feet above ground level, it had still been a fall of eight or nine feet, which was plenty high enough to hurt. Badly.

And that was ignoring the fact that he was pretty sure his back was probably shredded to ribbons by the glass.

He gave a long, pained groan and considered the relative merits of trying to stand up.

"I wouldn't," said a childish voice. "You might be really badly hurt."

A moment later and the owner of the voice was kneeling over him, regarding him with sympathetic blue eyes.

Tony blinked. He only hazily recalled the last time he'd seen this particular little girl. Four years earlier, while hopped up on morphine. Without the morphine- "Great. Hit my head hard enough to be hallucinating."

The girl giggled. "You're not hallucinating," she promised. "I said I'd come back."

"Kid-"

"Kelly," said the girl. "My name's Kelly, remember?"

And weirdly enough, Tony did remember.

"I thought you looked lonely again," she continued. She glanced up at the house. "I don't think this is a very nice place."

"It's not," Tony agreed, fighting the impulse to tell Kelly she shouldn't be here. As much as the front yard of a meth house wasn't a place for a little girl, telling a figment of his imagination to go away seemed a little redundant.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "I don't mean the house, silly. I mean Peoria."

"What?"

The look he got in return would have cheerfully melted steel. "You're not happy here."

"I'm lucky to be here," Tony shot back, even as he admitted to himself that she did have a point.

"Daddy would tell you it wasn't luck."

There was that word again. "Don't see why your dad would care about me."

That netted him another steel-melting glare. "Because he's your daddy too."

"Kid- Kelly, there's no-one who'd ever care like that about me." He tried for matter-of-fact, but he suspected his tone was closer to wistful if Kelly's smile was anything to go by.

"There will be," she promised.

Tony snorted. Somehow, he doubted it, but he didn't see much point in arguing with her. Assuming she was just a figment of his imagination, he'd just be arguing with himself and that was a pointless exercise - he always lost.

"But not here," she continued, taking a sterner tone and frowning heavily. "You know that, don't you?"

"It's not so bad."

The frown got heavier and she none-too-gently jabbed him in the arm. "Then why don't you ever drink from any coffee mug you haven't filled? Why don't you ever take food that's offered to you? They're not nice people. You deserve better."

If this was his subconscious, she was doing a bang up job of giving his inner thoughts a voice. The truth was things had gotten bad since he'd earned his shield - he was too smart and, perhaps more importantly, too smart-mouthed for most of the department. Hell, he might almost have suspected that the fall from the window was some kind of revenge prank from one of the other cops on the raid, except for the part where it was the tweaking son of a bitch they'd gone there to arrest who'd waltzed him out through the glass and while he knew some of the other detectives loathed him bad enough to make a deal with a meth-head, it had happened in the middle of a scuffle and someone that high on meth wasn't going to have been thinking clearly enough to make a plan stick.

No, the fall was an accident.

But the tampering with his coffee and the other pranks weren't. Nor was the sabotaging of his paperwork. Or any other other little things he'd noticed in recent week.

"Then do something about it," said Kelly, pitting him with another piercing glare.

"I've tried. Only transfers available right now are for NYPD and I can't risk that." New York was just too close to his father - both from the stand point of simply running into the man and from the possibility of having to investigate some of his shadier business deals.

The glare softened and this time, the child patted his arm gently as though she understood his reasoning. "Look again," she said. "There's something better just around the corner."

The world seemed to flicker. A burst of pain rippled out from his head and for just a moment, Tony saw a hospital room. "What the-"

"You're waking up," said Kelly.

"Waking up?" Now Tony felt really lost. "But I-"

"You hit your head bad enough to knock yourself out," she explained.

"I don't remember." Which was disconcerting, but more pain was radiating from the back of his head and thinking had suddenly become difficult. The meth house flickered and, disturbingly, so did Kelly. Tony wasn't altogether sure he wanted to rejoin reality.

Kelly smiled sadly. "You don't have a choice," she pointed out. "It is going to be okay, though, Tony." She patted him on the arm again. "Remember what I said and look again. There's better places than Peoria."

And in the next instant, she was gone - and so was the meth house. Instead, he found he was in a hospital bed with a nurse twitching at his blankets. The ripples of pain settled back into a grinding ache in the back of his head and he couldn't help the low groan that sounded in the back of his throat.

The nurse glanced down and smiled. "Good to see you back with us, Mr DiNozzo. I'll get the doctor for you."

And before he could object, she'd disappeared to do just that. Barely a moment later, the doctor arrived and the next fifteen minutes were a blur of medical tests and questions. During the exam he learned that there was no skull fracture (good), but he had bruised some ribs (not so good) in addition to the sizable concussion (definitely bad - though at least he wasn't actually seeing double) and the lacerations on his back (jury was out on them - but since they hadn't needed stitching, could have been worse).

"When can I get out of here?" Tony asked, as the doctor finally finished his poking and prodding.

"All being well, tomorrow afternoon," the doctor answered.

Tony grimaced. "Not any sooner?"

"We want to be sure there aren't any more consequences of that blow to the head," the doctor replied, looking amused. "That means a night under observation."

Tony wanted to argue about it, but given the way his head had started to throb in reaction to the doctor's efforts, maybe staying over night wouldn't be so bad.

He was just on the point of drifting back to sleep when there was a knock on the room's open door. He was blearily surprised to see John Phillips, his old partner, standing there looking amused.

"What're you doing here?" Tony asked.

John shook his head. "Visiting you - figured the jackasses you work with now wouldn't be around and figured you could use some company." He came fully into the room and slumped down onto a convenient seat. "Y'know this could never have happened if you'd stayed in uniform."

Tony groaned. "Thought you'd be happy to ditch me. Get yourself a quieter partner."

John snorted with amusement. "Eh; you were wasted in uniform and we both knew it. Besides, they've kid they've paired me with now makes you look like a functional mute."

Tony winced. "Ouch."

"Listen," John continued, "I got some news for you."

"News?"

"You remember me telling you my brother, who's a cop back east?"

Tony wracked his memories and finally the information floated free of the growing headache. "Jim, right? Philly?"

"That's him," John agreed. "Well, I was speaking him this morning and he reckons there's gonna be an opening in his precinct pretty soon. One of the detectives there is currently on IA leave pending a hearing. Jim says this guy is dirty and is gonna be losing his shield - might even be facing jail time, if the evidence is good enough."

_Something better round the corner._ Despite the headache, Tony found himself smirking. Seemed like Kelly had been right. "So, I should look at putting the transfer request in when they spring me tomorrow, huh?"


	3. Thigh

Once more I am stunned and humbled by the response this story's garnered. Thank you all, both those who've reviewed and those who've added this story as a favourite or who've set up alerts. It really does mean a lot to know that you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Many apologies for not getting this posted yesterday - the next part should be more prompt!

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story - but thanks to V for the help and advice.

Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel.

A Very Special Guardian Angel

3 - Thigh

Tony wasn't sure what sucked more. Being in hospital again, being stabbed and nearly dying through blood loss or being stabbed by his own partner.

On balance, he decided that the sense of betrayal Steven Thomas had left him with was currently outweighing the whole nearly dying thing. Which was, when he thought about it further, possible the most screwed up thing to have crossed his mind since back before he'd blown his knee and his chances of professional sport. It didn't help that it also left him feeling like a complete moron: he had known there had been at least one dirty cop in the precinct so, really, he shouldn't have been so surprised to learn that Thomas was dirty too, or that he'd reacted badly to being confronted.

He should have just gone to IA with his suspicions, but that hadn't seemed right. It hadn't seemed fair. Thomas was supposed to be his partner, and Tony had felt he'd owed it to the older man to give him a chance to explain. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like.

But it had been exactly what it had looked like and all he'd done was give Thomas the chance to drive a carving knife into his thigh - admittedly not where Thomas had been aiming, but it was no great improvement. It still hurt badly enough that painkillers were being given to him almost as if they were candy and he had even accepted some of them. Not enough to make him completely loopy, because at some point in the near future he knew Captain Harris would be by to take his statement and that would go far better if he was coherent, but enough to at least blur the edges.

"It's good you're taking your medicine this time," said a voice solemnly.

Forcing open eyelids that felt as if they were being weighed down by sandbags, Tony wasn't altogether surprised to see Kelly once more sitting pixie-like on the chair beside his bed. "Must be bad if you're here," he mumbled.

"You're hurting," she said simply.

Tony's eyes slid shut again. "Eight inches of steel through your thigh will do that to you."

Surprisingly, that got him a small chuckle.

"Not sure this is any better than Peoria," he murmured.

"No," she answered. "I don't think it is."

"Feel like a moron."

"You're not."

"Should have realised sooner what Thomas was doing."

"He was smart and sneaky."

"Doesn't matter." Tony forced his eyes to open again and met her sympathetic blue-eyed gaze. "I should have seen it sooner."

"What about the other people?" Kelly asked.

"Huh?"

She leaned forwards, clasping her hands together, and fixed him with one of her penetrating stares. "He worked with lots of other people," she said. "It wasn't just you."

"I was his partner. It's different." He let his eyes slide shut once more. "Supposed to be able to trust your partner."

"You never did trust him, though," Kelly pointed out, curious. "Why?"

And that was a good question. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Daddy would tell you it was your gut that warned you."

"Gut instinct, huh?" He focussed on that part of the comment and ignored the rest. The rest, after all, made no sense and he didn't really feel as if he had the energy to debate it. "Makes as much sense as anything, I guess." He grimaced. "Still should have seen it sooner."

"And so should the other people around you," Kelly insisted. "This isn't your fault."

Tony wished he could believe her, but he knew there were two women who, had he not had his head wedged up his own ass, wouldn't have been badly hurt. And they were just the ones directly affected. There were probably hundreds who'd been indirectly affected by Thomas' activities.

Kelly gave a sigh. "It really isn't your fault; you don't have to do penance." He felt her hands gently squeeze his forearm. "Promise me you won't."

"Kelly?" He didn't need to open his eyes to know she was giving him another of those heavy stares. He forced them open anyway and found that in addition to the stare, her whole expression was one of worry. "What?"

"Promise me you won't do anything silly," she demanded. "You don't have anything to make up for."

Tony grimaced. "Don't I?"

"No."

"Then why do I feel guilty?"

"Because you're a good person," she answered. "But this isn't something you need to make up for. You have nothing to prove. Please, Tony." There was a begging note in Kelly's voice now. "Promise me you won't do anything silly."

Everything flickered.

"You're waking up again," said Kelly. "Please, Tony; promise me."

"I-"

But Kelly vanished before Tony could say anything else and in her place was Captain Harris, together with another man. Neither man was in uniform and, for all he knew, the other man was simply a friend of Harris', but something suggested to Tony that the other man was also a cop. _Daddy would tell you it was your gut._ He grimaced and tried to force away the echo of Kelly's observation.

"DiNozzo, good to see you looking a little more human," Harris began. "Feeling better?"

"Guess so, sir."

"I still need to take your statement, but Steven Thomas has given a signed confession, so it's less urgent now." Harris waved a hand in the direction of the other visitor. "This is Captain Paul Donahue from Baltimore PD."

Tony blinked. Baltimore? What the hell would someone in Baltimore want with him?

"We're setting up a joint operation," Harris continued, "to try and tackle the Macaluso Family."

Now Tony stared at both visitors. The Macaluso Family were notorious in law enforcement circles up and down the East Coast. They ran a good proportion of all the organised crime rackets from the New York state line all the way south to Georgia, with their main power base being Baltimore.

"They're beginning to build up their strength in Philadelphia again," Donahue contributed, "so Philly's the place we're most likely to get someone in to the family to get the information we need to shut down their operation for good."

"Why are you telling me this?" Tony asked.

Harris gave him a long look. "Why do you think, DiNozzo?"

Tony flicked his gaze from one cop to the other and back again. "You want me to go undercover and infiltrate a Mafia family?" He didn't add the 'are you nuts', but it was palpable.

Neither captain flinched at the unspoken accusation. It was Donahue who answered with, "It is risky, but the payoff is worth it."

Tony closed his eyes for a moment. This, surely, had to be what Kelly had been concerned about. It was just about the stupidest thing an American-Italian cop could do. Going undercover with the Mafia was well-nigh suicidal for any law enforcement officer, but one who actually had ties to the community that spawned them? On the other hand, Thomas had been bankrolled by a suspected _capo_ in the Macaluso Family. Actively doing something to put an end to that appealed to the parts of him that took pride in being a good cop.

He reopened his eyes and looked squarely at Harris. "Why me?"

"You've got the right background, you've got the right look, you're the right sort of age, you're observant and Christ knows you can think on your feet."

"It's a real chance to clean house," Donahue added.

The urge to refuse was strong. Even if it wasn't what Kelly classed as silly, it certainly fit Tony's own definitions. On the other hand, the nagging sense of having an opportunity to do some tangible good was just as tempting. _Don't do penance._ It would be a way to work off some of the guilt, but it wouldn't be penance. This wouldn't be about fixing a past wrong but preventing a future one. _Sorry, Kelly - I think I have to do this._ "I must be crazy," he murmured. "When do I start?"


	4. Hand

Once more I am stunned and humbled by the response this story's garnered. Thank you all, both those who've reviewed and those who've added this story as a favourite or who've set up alerts. It really does mean a lot to know that you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Many apologies for not getting this posted yesterday - packing up for a move's proving to be even more hair-raising than I was expecting. It also means that part 5 might be a little late, too. I will try and get it up on Friday, but as I'm internet-less from Tuesday, that might be an interesting exercise!

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done. The Greatful Dead lyrics belong to Jerry Garcia et al. Deadheads, of course, belong to themselves.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story - but thanks to V for the help and advice.

Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel.

A Very Special Guardian Angel

4 - Hand

Tony slumped down onto the ratty couch, tugging at his tie with his unencumbered hand.

"Hell of a day."

He leaned backwards and groaned. Michael Macaluso was safely jailed, his family had been largely dismantled and he, Tony DiNozzo, was left exactly nowhere. Both Philly PD and Baltimore PD had issued commendations and accolades, but neither really knew what to do with him now. It didn't help that his left hand was still encased in plaster and would be for another month, which meant that they had to find him a desk job. The final compromise was an official transfer to Baltimore and a spot working cold cases, at least until the plaster was removed.

From celebrated undercover operative to records clerk.

Tony shook his head. He really shouldn't feel disappointed by the move. He ought to be grateful that he was even here to be offered it. After all, he had spent nearly eighteen months undercover with a Mafia family and had managed to make it out almost completely unscathed - and that record had only been ruined in the final bust, when one of Macaluso's enforcers had finally recognised him as a cop and had started the inevitable treatment. He'd only got as far as crushing Tony's left hand, though, before Macaluso's compound was overrun by cops. He'd been damn lucky, all things considered. And, in completing the mission and seeing Macaluso into a nice long stretch in state pen, he'd seriously enhanced his reputation. So, really, nothing to be disappointed about. It wasn't as if the cold cases role would be anything other than a short-term position while his hand finished healing.

And yet he was disappointed all the same.

"Daddy would tell you it's because you've been on edge the whole time, and now you're not," said a voice.

Tony looked round, startled. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom of his rented apartment was a disapproving-looking Kelly. She had her arms folded across her chest and was treating him to a fearsome glare. Despite himself, he gulped. "I didn't think I was that badly hurt."

That got an unwilling smile and she shook her head until her long red-blonde hair tangled around her. "You're not."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you did something silly," Kelly answered.

"Kelly, I-" He sighed. "I had to do it."

"No you didn't."

"Kelly-"

"No." She took a couple of steps into the room, until she was standing right in front of him. "You didn't have to. You could have stayed in Philadelphia and you would be home by now."

Tony just stared at her. "That makes no sense. I don't-" He stopped and gestured with his unencumbered hand at the rented apartment Baltimore PD had found for him. "This is as close to a home as I get."

The ferocity of Kelly's glare only increased. "This isn't a real home."

"Well I don't have any other kind." The thought crossed Tony's mind that a real home was something he'd never really had - not by the definitions most people worked from. "This is as good as it gets."

Oddly, that prompted Kelly's expression to modulate into something less hostile and more mournful. "No it isn't," she said softly. "Daddy will show you that it isn't."

Now Tony was completely confused. "I thought you said I'd missed him."

"You missed that chance," said Kelly. "You have another."

There was an unspoken, 'don't screw it up' to her words which made Tony grimace. "Kelly, it's not that I don't believe you-"

"You don't," she said, a small smile creasing her face now. "That's okay. You will."

"-but why would some complete stranger give a- a rats patoot about me?"

To his general astonishment, Kelly came and wrapped her arms around him in a surprisingly strong hug. "Because you're a good person."

"Am I?"

"You are." Kelly released him and stepped back. "And don't let anyone else ever tell you different." She put her hands to her hips and her eyes narrowed back into that fierce gaze. "Now will you admit what you did was silly?"

Tony found himself smiling, genuinely amused by her antics. Clearly she wasn't prepared to let that matter drop. "It was a risk," he agreed, "but I did have to do it. Michael Macaluso needed to be put away and this was the only way to do that." He sighed. "Doing that's why I became a cop. To make people's lives better. Not to sit in some dusty archive looking at case files that are older than I am."

Her expression morphed again, this time from fierce to puzzled. "But you haven't really been a cop," she said. "Not since the last time I was here. You've been Antonio Cabrini."

And Tony supposed that was true from a certain perspective. By the end, he'd been keeping up his cover identity almost twenty-four hours a day and spending those days doing things that Anthony DiNozzo would have never considered doing. He'd actually committed a few small acts of vandalism, together with some stage-managed acts of violence, to help sell his cover. He'd also stood by and done nothing as crimes were committed in front of him, and while he'd been able to provide intel to variously the Philly Vice Squad and the Baltimore Narcotics Division on some of them, plenty of other minor, and not so minor, crimes had gone unpunished in the name of ultimately getting enough to nail Macaluso.

"Daddy would tell you that the dusty archive might not be what you want," said Kelly, "but maybe it's what you need."

There was a level of truth to the words that settled, almost like a balm, against the hurt of what was, even allowing for circumstances, a demotion. "Maybe you're right."

That earned a smirk. "I know I am." She glanced over her shoulder. "Mommy says I have to go now. It's nearly time for you to wake up."

For a moment, Tony was almost tempted to beg her not to leave. For all that she'd been scolding him, he had to admit it had been nice when she'd hugged him. For perhaps the first time, he wondered what it would be like to have a real baby sister. A real family, in fact.

"You'll know," said Kelly softly. "I promise."

Her words were almost drowned out, however, by the shrillness of a blaring alarm and Tony found himself bolting upright off the couch with a startled yelp. Kelly was gone and, to judge by the grey light now filling the room, it was early morning. He'd managed to sleep all night on his couch. Not, he decided, the best way to start the day. Still, it was nothing that a hot shower and some cereal wouldn't fix. Then he could head on in and get the new assignment under way.

* * *

A couple of hours later, having filled out more paperwork than for any of his previous transfers - probably a result of the slightly unorthodox method of reaching Baltimore - Tony found himself heading down into the bowels of the Central District building to meet with his new partner, a Detective Donny Morgan - and at that name, he couldn't help but start picturing a straight-laced Osmond clone. If that was remotely accurate, this next month was going to be the longest of his life.

Much to his surprise, though, when the elevator reached the basement and the doors opened, he was greeted not by an echoing silence of a records archive, but the sounds of Jerry Garcia.

_"I'd like to get some sleep before I travel, but if you got a warrant - I guess you're gonna come in..."_

If Morgan was playing the Greatful Dead, he clearly had at least some personality to him. Tony found himself sighing with relief, even as he made a mental note to suggest that his new partner perhaps turn the music down, just a fraction. Following the music, which got progressively louder the closer he got to his destination, Tony made his way through the maze of file cabinets and document stacks until he found his new partner, sitting at a desk with his back to the rest of the room.

For a moment, he wondered just how he was going to attract Morgan's attention without giving the other man heart failure. In the next moment, as Morgan turned to face him, Tony discovered that the other detective had a small mirror installed on his desk to alert him of any new arrivals. Given the volume of the music, that made sense.

His first impression of the detective was of a man about the same age as himself with sandy blond hair that was long enough to have crossed the line from styled to scruffy. Definitely not an Osmond clone. From the way his shirt and pants were rumpled, Tony wondered if perhaps the other man had actually slept in his clothes - not an unfamiliar hazard for an active homicide detective, but surely not something that ought to have been a feature of a cold case detective. From the number of coffee cups on the desk, Tony suspected that actually, the other man hadn't done so much sleeping.

"Can I help you?" Morgan asked, remarkably managing to pitch his voice loud enough to be heard over the music without also sounding like he was shouting.

"Detective Tony DiNozzo," Tony answered. "I've been assigned to work down here with you."

Morgan's face split into a wide grin. "They told me you wouldn't be here until next week."

Consciously, Tony brushed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well. Was just going crazy at home - and it's not like this," he gestured to the plaster on his hand, "is gonna get any better in a week."

"Good point." Morgan reached behind him and the music suddenly cut off, leaving behind a deafening silence. "Figure they already told you I'm Donny Morgan, right?"

"Right."

Morgan grinned. "That case, welcome to dust hell. We've got another desk somewhere over there," and he waved a hand negligently towards what appeared to be a monster stack of case files, "so find a seat. You much of a Deadhead?"

Tony smirked. "I can think of worse."

Morgan's grin got even broader. "Then I figure we'll get on just fine down here." And with that, the music returned.

Still smirking, Tony headed in the direction of the case files. Clearly this wasn't going to be the dull assignment he'd assumed. _Not what you want, but it is what you need._ Kelly was right. Cold cases would be a good way of easing back to being Tony DiNozzo on a full-time basis.


	5. Lungs

Firstly, let me apologise for the delay - life has been absolute chaos for the past three weeks. Thankfully, we're just about settled and situated now, and life's steadily finding its new level of normal. In addition, I can safely say that this chapter has probably given me more trouble to finish off than the preceding four put together! It is now done, though, and so, here it is.

Thank you again, for your reviews, your alerts and your favourites. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, I'm truly humbled by the response this story's garnered. It really does mean a lot to know that you're enjoying this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

There is one part left after this - and since that was the bit that got written first (never let it be said I write in actual order!), that's all ready to post and will be going up on Friday.

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done. NB The dialogue at the beginning of the scene is taken verbatim from SWAK - I make no claim of ownership over that, either.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story - but thanks to V for the help and advice.

Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel.

A Very Special Guardian Angel

5 - Lungs

"So, tell me doc, what've I got?"

Lying in the Bethesda isolation unit under blue lights, Tony was fairly certain he didn't want the answer to his question, partly because there was no question that he had something. As much as he was trying not to think about it, he knew he was getting sick. He could feel his lungs beginning to tighten and his muscles were beginning to ache. He also suspected that he was running a low grade fever. It could, of course, just be the on-set of 'flu.

He doubted it.

"Pneumonic Plague," Pitt answered.

"Plague?" Tony could only stare at the doctor - the ass from Michigan he'd never wanted to see again and yet, here he was, all the same - and repeat the diagnosis, because his brain refused to comprehend it. "Plague."

"Yeah, Tony, plague. Because only you would go off and get a disease from the dark ages." Kate's words were shrill and angry, and Tony tried to focus on them, tried to concentrate on the bantering back and forth with her, but none of it really penetrated. He had the plague.

The honest-to-freaking-goodness plague.

As the coughing began and he found himself fighting for each and every last breath, everything else faded into a nightmarish blur, but that thought - that he had a disease that almost no-one had suffered from since the advent of antibiotics - remained a constant. Like a bad chorus from an equally bad ear worm. He had the plague. The plague. Plague. Freaking plague.

At some point, as the day wore on and the coughing fits progressed until they became the norm and the time between them shrank to almost nothing, a second thought joined the first: he was going to die. There wasn't going to be a split second rescue or a narrow escape. Not even Gibbs could fix this. There was nothing to fight; nothing to hit; nothing to even threaten - except Tony himself and much as he'd managed to gasp out that yes, he'd understood Gibbs' orders, there really wasn't much more he could do.

He had no strength left. His head buzzed from a lack of oxygen. His ribs were beyond aching from all the coughing. Tony's last thought, as he finally lost the battle to stay conscious, was that this time _this_ DiNozzo would be quite happy to pass out.

* * *

His first clue that he wasn't quite in Kansas any more was the lack of an invisible elephant slowly crushing his lungs. For a moment or two, he wondered if, perhaps, the lack of that pressure meant that he was dead and this was some sort of afterlife. Opening his eyes, however, revealed the Bethesda isolation unit and those god-awful blue lights. Somehow, he doubted that heaven would look like this.

"You're not dead," said a voice softly.

Rolling up onto his side, Tony looked across at the bed he thought Kate might have been sleeping on at one point and, predictably, found Kelly sitting on it. Her legs were crossed, Indian fashion, and she was leaning forwards, elbows on knees and head propped on hands, apparently studying him, if the serious expression on her face was anything to go by.

"I guess that's good to hear," he said. He wasn't entirely convinced, though. Much as he didn't actually want to die, he didn't especially want to come round to more coughing and the almost constant taste of blood, either.

"You're in ICU now," Kelly explained. "The doctors and nurses and everyone around you is still fighting for you."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say something flippant - about it being the doctors' job to keep fighting for him - but the expression on Kelly's face stalled him. Instead he said, "But?"

She sighed. "You've given up."

Tony grimaced. "I haven't given up, Kelly."

"You have. You've stopped fighting."

"I don't want to-"

"Then don't," said Kelly, a note of desperation entering her voice.

"-but it hurts so much," he finished, flopping back onto his back. "It really hurts, Kelly."

He heard her climb down from her seat and a moment later, she loomed over him, her blue eyes liquid with unshed tears. "You have to keep fighting," she whispered. "Please, Tony."

"I'm so tired."

"Daddy needs you and he gave you an order - you've never let him down before, don't start now."

"Daddy? Order? Wait-" Tony stopped and swallowed, trying to collect thoughts that had just been scattered every which way. "Gibbs is your dad?"

Kelly nodded once.

As stunning as that realisation was, there was equally something about it that didn't surprise him. It wasn't as if there hadn't been plenty of clues, but until now he'd never picked up on them, blinded by the simple fact that Gibbs had never made any reference to a daughter from any of his three marriages. "What happened?"

The small girl sighed. "Daddy lost me and mommy a long time ago."

And damnit, if there hadn't been clues to that, too. Tony kicked himself. "I should have-"

"Daddy hides it," said Kelly simply. "It's not your fault."

Tony didn't feel any better for that statement. "Some investigator I am." He sighed. "Maybe it would be better if I didn't recover."

Kelly's expression hardened into a glare that her father couldn't have bettered. "Don't say that," she said. "He needs you. They need you."

"For what? Comic relief?" He rubbed a hand over his face. "That's about all I'm good for."

"No it isn't." She slowly shook her head. "I told you: you are a good person and don't let anyone tell you different. You are needed here. This is where you belong. This is home."

"You saying that doesn't make it so," Tony replied. He closed his eyes. "If Gibbs ever actually needed me, he doesn't any more. Why would he? He's got Abby to look after, Ducky to talk to, Probie does his techy thing and he's still green enough that Gibbs can teach him. Then there's Kate, who's gotta be at least smart enough to know not to open a letter stuffed with plague."

To his surprise he felt her arms wrap around him in an awkward hug. "He needs you because you're the one he can trust. Because you don't need to be told what to do. Because, no matter what, you've got his six. Because you can make him smile. And because there's bad stuff coming and you're the only one who'll stop him from turning into Captain Ahab again."

Tony reopened his eyes and found that Kelly had more or less snuggled up against his side, still with her arms wrapped around him. It wasn't as uncomfortable as he'd expected. "Bad stuff?" he repeated.

She nodded.

"What kind of bad stuff?"

She craned her neck so that she could meet his gaze. "I can't tell you what."

"Can I stop it?"

"Some of it."

"How? Or can't you tell me that, either?"

"Fight this," she answered simply, tucking her head against his chest. "Fight this and fight for your family. Fight for Daddy. Fight, because if you don't, a lot of people will be hurt."

"You're not just talking about Gibbs and the rest of the team, are you?"

Kelly sighed and shook her head.

A nervous laugh bubbled up in the back of Tony's throat. "What if I screw up?"

"You won't," Kelly answered, certainty making her words warm and comforting. "Just get better." She looked up again, meeting his gaze. "Please?"

"I'll keep fighting," Tony answered. "It's all I can do right now, right?"

From the answering hug, he guessed that was the right answer.

The edges of the dream began to flicker and crumble and pain began to make itself known again. Tony winced. For all that he'd just promised, he wasn't ready to wake up just yet. It was, he acknowledged, nice here.

Kelly lifted her head and offered him one last smile. "Family's waiting," she whispered.

Then, between one blink and the next, both she and the blue lights were gone and in their places was a dimmed vision of a regular hospital room and the feeling of someone clinging to his hand. Tony shifted slightly so that he could see who it was: Abby, slumped forwards until her head was resting on the bed, fast asleep but still holding his hand. No great surprise, when he thought about it. What was surprising was seeing who was sitting on the other side of the bed: Kate, likewise fast asleep, but slumped back in her seat at an angle that was almost calculated to give her a stiff neck. Movement behind Kate alerted him to a third person, also asleep: McGee, chin to chest and jacket spread over him like a makeshift blanket.

Didn't McGee and Kate have somewhere better - to say nothing of more comfortable - to be than in a hospital room? And yet, for all that, he felt oddly cheered that they didn't. _Family's waiting._ He'd never thought about it quite like that before, but he realised Kelly was right: they _were_ family. A dysfunctional one, perhaps, but a family all the same. These were people who would, when the chips were down, do anything for him.

As he settled back against his pillow, a fourth person caught his attention: silhouetted in the doorway was Gibbs.

"Go back to sleep, DiNozzo. We've got your six."

It was said at an unaccustomed volume - he didn't think he'd ever heard Gibbs' voice sound so quiet and soft - but it was an order all the same and one that Tony felt more than inclined to follow. He was, he recognised, exhausted. For a few moments, he wondered at that - just how ill had he been? But, as sleep came closer, his thoughts shifted back to Kelly's warning of impending doom. Doing everything that he could to stop it had never been a question, but now there was another aspect to it. For the first time in his life, he had somewhere he belonged and people he cared for and that was something he was going to fight for, no matter what.


	6. Gibbs

Author's notes and general babble comes at the end. (And I think this just about still counts as Friday - right?...!)

Disclaimer: Out of this story, all I own is the plot. The rest is borrowed from Bellisario et al with no offence intended and no (well, very little!) harm done.

No beta readers were harmed in the production of this story - but thanks to V for the help and advice.

Five times that Anthony DiNozzo met his guardian angel...and one time he didn't.

A Very Special Guardian Angel

6 - Gibbs

As Tony made his way through the rows of gravestones, he felt a little like he was prying into Gibbs' last and darkest secrets and yet, after the week he'd had - that they'd both had, technically speaking - he felt entitled, just this once, to visit the graves of Gibbs' wife and daughter.

He'd never asked Gibbs about them; even once he officially 'knew' (and truth told, the revelations about how they'd lived and died had been shocking enough that he hadn't needed to try hard to feign surprise) he'd left that sore spot alone, judging that the memories of their lives (and deaths) were still too painful for Gibbs to touch, even now. That was definitely something Tony could understand.

Maddie Tylor's arrival at the Navy Yard had changed all that.

On one level, the case had been about theft and extortion of money from Iraq - and in large part, that had been how Tony had written his case report up, earlier that morning - but there was a second level. Saving Maddie was Gibbs' shot at redemption in his own eyes. He hadn't been able to save Kelly, but perhaps he could save her best friend. That had been why Gibbs had gone Captain Ahab again and that had been why his loyal Ishmael had been close enough behind to pull off a rescue that, even three days later, Tony wasn't sure he could believe he'd actually completed.

The past three days had been strange. Maddie had thanked him tearfully. There was a citation for bravery above and beyond the call of duty from the Director; there was a similar one from SECNAV, too. Gibbs had said very little, though all of it had been complementary. Ducky had been effusive and just as complementary. Palmer and McGee had been awed. Ziva had said little, but the smirk she'd given him this morning (his first day released to desk work after a brief stay in Bethesda and yet more time spent in the company of Brad and Nurse Emma) did suggest she was impressed. Abby had fluctuated wildly between thanking him profusely, hugging the life out of him (not good for someone whose lungs were still inclined to quit working) and demanding to know how the hell he'd done it.

That, though, was the original unanswerable question. It shouldn't have been physically possible; it especially shouldn't have been physically possible for him, given the damage to his lungs caused by plague-induced severe pneumonia. Speaking a mile a minute, Abby had explained all the reasons it should have been impossible, at great length. Tony had simply shrugged when she'd finally wound down. He'd never had much use for being told he couldn't do things.

That had earned him another bone-crushing hug and a kiss on the cheek and then Abby had finally been content to let him get back up to the bullpen.

It had been as the morning had gone on and he'd written up what had happened that the idea of coming here had occurred to him. It was the work of a moment to look up the exact location and, when lunchtime had arrived, he'd turned down lunch invites from everyone else by simply saying he had somewhere he needed to go.

So here he was, a handful of pink daisies and white roses clutched gingerly in his left hand, searching for the graves of Shannon and Kelly Gibbs.

About a third of the way along the row, he found them. He wasn't terribly surprised to see fresh flowers on both - pink-and-white roses in both cases. What did surprise him was the small pile of stones, carefully built up on each headstone. That suggested Ziva had been here before, and probably more than once. When and why eluded him and, for a moment, he was tempted to ask her. Then he shook his head. It was none of his business - and he certainly didn't want to have to explain his own visit.

Having found them, though, he now hesitated. As much as he'd accepted Kelly's infrequent visits and accepted her help or advice, there was a part of him that fought shy of the reality that said she was the ghost (spirit? shade?) of Gibbs' daughter. His mind tended to skitter away from that topic as fast as it could - no matter how irrational it was, it always inspired at least a small flash of guilt: why did he deserve to see Kelly when she'd been so irrevocably lost to Gibbs? - and by being here and doing what he intended, he'd finally have to not only face that but accept it.

_You're not a coward._ It had been one of the very first things Kelly had said about him and it made him smile faintly. As awkward and uncomfortable as it felt, he did owe her this visit.

Crouching down, Tony brushed his fingers over the stone words that memorialised Shannon Gibbs. _Loving wife. _He laid the roses on Shannon's grave, then turned his attention to Kelly's marker. _Beloved Daughter._ He traced the words with a finger as he added the pink daisies to her grave.

"Couldn't stop him from chasing the great white whale this time, Kelly," he murmured softly. "I tried, but there's some stuff even I can't talk him out of. At least I could save him and Maddie from ending up in Ducky's care."

He half expected to hear her answer, but the only sound in response was the rustling of wind through the trees.

Tony sighed. "I can't promise to keep him safe, Kelly, but I've got his six. I will always have his six. Figure, after the last week, that was something you needed to hear and, I guess, it was something I needed to say." He smiled. "I didn't believe you, but you were right - about him, about me, about this place being home." He slowly levered back to his feet. "Guess I'll be seeing you, little sister."

Feeling lighter than he had all week, Tony headed away from the graves and back towards his car. He didn't notice the small girl with the red-blonde hair who was standing in the shade of one of the cemetery's impressive oak trees. She watched him go, a broad and infectious grin on her face. "He's finally home," she whispered. "It's finally right."

* * *

Author's Babble

Well, this is the end. It's been an incredible ride for me - what started out as one of THOSE ideas you get at 3am when you just can't sleep has become literally the most popular thing I've ever written. Some parts have come out kicking and screaming, some parts have seriously challenged me and some parts have had me tearing my hair out until sudden (and very random!) inspiration's solved my problem, but it's also been a lot of fun and the end result's something that I'm extremely pleased with.

I've tried to reply to all the reviews I've had (and will continue to do so), but in the case of the couple of Anony-mice, I haven't been able to do that because they've left me no contact email, so thanks to you guys for reading and reviewing, and to Anne (who did raise a very good point about the timing): I've got a really long justification of the timing, to do with averages and training and the likelihood that he probably had to take some extra classes and maybe re-did his senior year after the knee thing so's to graduate with a full degree, which basically boils down to "I had to fudge the timeline a little". Hopefully, you can forgive me for that!

Thanks also to everyone who's marked this story as a favourite, asked for story alerts or even just read without comment: I hope I've been able to entertain you and that you've enjoyed what you've read.


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